Archive for February, 2014

This contains completely meaningless amounts of profanity.  If this bothers you, I am not sorry.  But I’m also not above mentioning it beforehand, because I love my mother, and she hates my french.

Before reading this, please note that it isn’t the pure contempt for the outpouring of compassion that it appears to be.  My heart is warmed by peoples awareness of these things.  It’s more of a plea for people to expand that awareness.  Apologies for what I’m now seeing as an abrasive piece of writing.  And again, I don’t judge people negatively for eating meat and I think it’s very possible to do so while maintaining adoration for animals. Whatever though.  Here.

I lost my job in November.  I was fired after explaining the reasoning behind my refusal to lower myself to practicing a level of speciesism that would’ve condemned animals of one functioning level to die so that animals of another functioning level could eat food that they don’t need to eat.  And before anyone starts crying about the language that I use, let me make something clear; I am an animal.  So are you.  Deal with it.  The ability to write or read this does not exempt either of us from being animals.  I don’t particularly give even a fraction of a shit if anyone thinks that they are above or below an animal in terms of what level of treatment they deserve, but my personal moral and ethical belief system entails that ALL LIVING ANIMALS are entitled to the most compassionate and humane treatment possible.  Until I see the women that fired me for suggesting I dehumanized those that I tirelessly served for so many years, jump off a dock and catch a frisbee in their mouths, then I’ll stand by my argument that we all function at various levels in our daily activities and that functional standards don’t exist so that we can look down on anybody or anything.  They exist so you don’t ask your chinchilla to drive you to work in the morning.  Or so you don’t get frustrated with a three year old for having subpar trigonometry skills before they’re capable of adding and subtracting cheerios on their lunch tray.  Life is beautiful. ALL OF IT.  If something can look at me, perceive me, and make a conscious reaction or decision based on my existence, then I believe that I have no right to inconvenience it to satisfy an unnecessary WANT of mine. Does this mean that I hate lions for eating zebras?  NO.  It means I believe that as humans we have developed to a high enough level of existence where animals no longer need to be exploited for fashion, comfort food, junk food or more importantly entertainment.  I am not about to begin discussing and arguing with anyone that thinks that their ancestors fought their way to the top of a food chain so that we could eat meat instead of what meat eats.  Our ancestors would fucking eat us if they saw how badly we fucked up.  Not out of hunger, but out of furious disappointment.  They also worked hard for their food and earned it.  They were part of an actual food chain.  We are not.  We created an assembly line food chain so that we wouldn’t have to exist frailly within the food chain that the rest of the world exists in.  Most of the junkfood obsessed people I see making this argument would become lunch within three minutes of wandering back into natures food chain.  So I won’t be dignifying those arguments any longer.  And quite frankly, the fire has gone out and I don’t give a shit what people eat anymore.  I only ask that they consider what they are buying into and if they would subject the animal that they are eating to the life it lived and the death it died en route to their toilet.  Most of them will say. “whatever man, that shit tastes good…lol.”  But what they would do if left in a room with an animal and an instrument with which to kill it is completely different.  They may kill it, but there will be no LOL’ing involved.  Or else you’re a fucking sociopath and not a hungry animal.  But this is all way off the point.  We’re here to talk about that poor fucking giraffe that everyone is bent out of shape about.  If you lost your shit when you read the articles about it, then first I will ask the same things I ask to the people posting the anti-Michael Vick memes or any other momentary act of animal caring propaganda and then driving to taco bell to eat beef that came out of a caulk gun.

First, are you a vegan? If you are not, AND you do not know where your dairy or meat or eggs come from, or your clothes, then please refrain from admonishing anyone that kills an animal.  The giraffe is no more deserving of your compassion than the pig, cow, chicken, lamb, duck, dog or cat you had for dinner.  Oh yeah, don’t rip Asians for including cats and dogs in their diet.  In terms of environmental soundness, eating our own domestic animals is far more reasonable than eating farm animals that fall out of their moms vagina into a prison cell before being pumped full of shit for a short life, shipped across the country, and commonly fucking tortured to death so that you can get your protein that someone once told you you will die without.  Again, I’ll reiterate, I’ve grown out of giving a shit if you think this is okay.  To each his own.  Please refrain from these frightening levels of hypocrisy though.  Many of you know that, though I think hunting and killing animals is a massive bummer, if you are going to eat meat, I am a huge advocate for you going out and taking care of it yourself.  Be respectful to what you take from the land.  Don’t go through the drive through and pay 89 cents for part of 13 different cows from 13 different states, none of which had names, but all of which had the desire to be the animal they were born to be. Stop saying the chicken or fish are okay to eat because they are dumb.  You don’t know shit about how smart or dumb these animals are.  And the only fucking certainty is that they are a smarter chicken or fish than you will ever be.  You may be a smart human, but in the coop, you are the dumbass.  In the water, you don’t know shit.  In a kennel full of dogs, you are the dumbest creature in the room.  Stop applying human educational standards to your moral justification for paying someone to kill something for you. And say fucking grace before you eat. Not to god, because there probably isn’t one, but rather to the animal that died so that your taste buds could experience some momentary satisfaction before returning to the completely tolerable state of not having experienced that satisfaction.

On to this fucking giraffe now.

As I’m currently in a low point in life and avoiding negativity as much as possible, I didn’t thoroughly read any of the articles.  From what I gathered in trying to avoid the insane comments of people that suddenly gave a shit about another species, was that the giraffe was shot, skinned and fed to the lions in front of Zoo-goers. I’ll exempt myself from verifying that, as I agree with doing it as much as I agree with the alternative to doing it.  At any rate, let’s break that down.  First,  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK THE LIONS AT THE ZOO ATE?  CORN?  No, they eat animals.  Again, animals that aren’t any more deserving of your compassion that this damn Giraffe.  You think because it had a name and was deemed playful that it was different?  Go name the animals in captivity that are killed, skinned and fed to YOU every day.  Let them show you how fucking playful they can be.  Then complain about Marius the giraffe being killed.  Have you ever seen the factory process by which the average American’s dinner was slaughtered? Or even worse, the conditions under which it wasn’t slaughtered yet?  Wake up.  Or, go back to a dignified state of ignoring the reality of the situation because life is simply easier if you don’t think of your bacon as having had a name, or an adorable tail, or a unique personality and desire to lay down next to one of its cell mates, or hold a grudge against another.  Life’s easier if you don’t know that the guy that killed that sleeve of bacon had a fight with his girlfriend before work that day and showed up to work aggravated and without thinking about it shoved an electric rod up the pigs ass while it screamed in agony, and then slowly shaved its fucking snout off while it stared and squirmed and squealed and cried.  Because bacon is fucking delicious.

Maybe you should also be pissed off about the fact that there are animals in zoo’s that don’t need to be there in the first place.  If I were imprisoned so some shitass kids could come point at me an laugh while their parents spouted off bullshit about how I loved it there, then I would probably beg to be shot and fed to the lions.  Zoo’s can serve a wonderful purpose.  Let’s not pretend that they always do though.  Beneath the justification of being educational institutions for conservation purposes, its important not to forget that conserving a species shouldn’t mean charging the public to come watch them sit behind a gate all day and suffer.  And, no, the animal behind the gate is not content, regardless of how you spin it.  It’s important to admit here that I have gone to zoos and probably will again.  I find animals fascinating and where there is an opportunity to look a rare animal in the eye, I will do so.  I don’t feel good when I see a wolf trying to figure out how to be a wolf while some little shit screams in make believe terror over that thing from all their fairy tales.  I equate my zoo visits to going to the local animal shelter. It leaves me sad.  But it leaves me aware. Though Zoo’s are an entirely more reasonable level of pulling animals out of the wild than things like SeaWorld or the Circus,  I am at still at odds. And even writing this am thrust into a crisis of consciousness suddenly, as I find it important to critique myself. Fuck!  And I am off the point again.

Stop giving a shit about one thing and not another.  Or, a far better idea, START GIVING A SHIT ABOUT EVERYTHING.  Don’t give a fuck about Marius the giraffe unless you have earned  the right to be pissed off by giving equal amounts of fucks about the nameless millions of equally awesome animals that didn’t get 18 months of zoo life before being shot and used in what is, at the end of the day a very meaningful way.  Open your eyes and be better people when you decide where to get your meat.  Acknowledge that your sadness over the giraffe exists for a reason and then apply that reasoning to every decision you make as a consumer and as a decent human being.  Or please go back to being silent, happy consumers.  It’s easier to stomach the torture of all the non-giraffes that way.Image

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253910_782138945365_2026081_n I recall the string of comments that followed when I first posted this picture.  They were very typical.  “Eat a cheeseburger.  You look Somalian.”  “Put on some weight, you look unhealthy.”  “Jesus, you’re too skinny.”  Naturally, one can assume that each of these comments came from someone that has spent their entire life being overweight.  I brushed them off for that reason.  I felt it was only fair that people that have likely had their share of jokes thrown their way should be able to take a shot on people that don’t deal with such shit.  It never really occurred to me that being joked with for being skinny is just as offensive as being joked with for being overweight.  If you are offended by things of that nature, that is.  I tend not to be as life is short and being offended is a waste of time.  That lasts until someone posts a meme saying something to the effect of ,

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Then I become confused.  I’m either A) not a guy, or 2) wrong about what I like.  Neither of these seem possible.  Last time I peed I stood up and as far as I know, my taste in women isn’t really a defined by my own gender.  When I look at that meme I tend to think first that I don’t find either of them particularly attractive and second that if I was a girl that was born skinny, ate 3000 calories a day and never exercised a bit, I would probably be pretty pissed off about someone implying that I was unlovable.  My fiance and I are both stricken with tragic eating disorders.  We each consume more food throughout the course of a given day than any two people of our respective genders.  Neither of us get big.  I get slow, and flabby perhaps, which leads me to complain quite often, but she never really gains an inch or a pound or a pant size.  Being the most beautiful girl in the world isn’t her fault.  Just like having exceptional abs isn’t mine.   If I am told to eat a cheeseburger or go on a particular diet because I look Somalian, I reserve the right to reply, “Go on a diet, you look American.”  If I am told that I exercise too much and that I am obsessed with my body and that I am unhealthy because somebodies doctor told them that being vegan and running was gonna make me jaundiced and fucking kill me, then I kind of reserve the right to tell people that they are fat because they are lazy and THEY are obsessed with my body, because they wish they could unzip their lard and step out of it with 6 percent body fat and a 5:20 mile.  Of course these are ridiculous assumptions.  But people still make such statements to indicate that an entire fucking population of people likes one thing and detests another.  That being said, I’m still not really offended by being told that I am too skinny, but I certainly feel sympathetic for those that are naturally skinny and have to deal with an onslaught of shaming over the fact that their ass will never look like Beyonce’s.   I also feel simultaneously sympathetic and inspired by someone born heavy that takes tremendous care of themselves even while knowing that they’ll never look like the girl on the cover of Playboy.  Being heavy or light doesn’t indicate nearly enough about someones character to be a dickhead to them.